The Riddle of the Sands Part 18

'Yes, by Jove! Carruthers,' said Davies, eagerly, 'we must get out on this next tide.'

'Oh, there's no hurry,' I said, partly from policy, partly because the ease of the sh.o.r.e was on me. To sit on a chair upright is something of a luxury, however good the cause in which you have crouched like a monkey over a table at the level of your knees, with a reeking oil-stove at your ear.

'They're honest enough about here, aren't they?' I added. While the words were on my lips I remembered the midnight visitor at w.a.n.geroog, and guessed that von Bruning was leading up to a test. Grimm (if he was the visitor) would have told him of his narrow escape from detection, and reticence on our part would show we suspected something. I could have kicked myself, but it was not too late. I took the bull by the horns, and, before the commander could answer, added:

'By Jove! Davies, I forgot about that fellow at w.a.n.geroog. The anchor might be stolen, as he says.'

Davies looked blank, but von Bruning had turned to me.

'We never dreamed there would be thieves among these islands,' I said, 'but the other night I nearly caught a fellow in the act. He thought the yacht was empty.'

I described the affair in detail, and with what humour I could. Our host was amused, and apologetic for the islanders.

'They're excellent folk,' he said, 'but they're born with predatory instincts. Their fathers made their living out of wrecks on this coast, and the children inherit a weakness for plunder. When w.a.n.geroog lighthouse was built they pet.i.tioned the Government for compensation, in perfect good faith. The coast is well lighted now, and windfalls are rare, but the sight of a stranded yacht, with the owners ash.o.r.e, would inflame the old pa.s.sion; and, depend upon it, someone has seen that anchor-buoy.'

The word 'wrecks' had set me tingling. Was it another test?

Impossible to say; but audacity was safer than reserve, and might save trouble in the future.

'Isn't there the wreck of a treasure-ship somewhere farther west?' I asked. 'We heard of it at w.a.n.geroog' (my first inaccuracy). 'They said a company was exploiting it.'

'Quite right,' said the commander, without a sign of embarra.s.sment.

'I don't wonder you heard of it. It's one of the few things folk have to talk about in these parts. It lies on Juister Riff, a shoal off Juist. _[see Map B]_ She was a French frigate, the Corinne, bound from Hamburg to Havre in 1811, when Napoleon held Hamburg as tight as Paris. She carried a million and a half in gold bars, and was insured in Hamburg; foundered in four fathoms, broke up, and there lies the treasure.'

'Never been raised?'

'No. The underwriters failed and went bankrupt, and the wreck came into the hands of your English Lloyd's. It remained their property till '75, but they never got at the bullion. In fact, for fifty years it was never scratched at, and its very position grew doubtful, for the sand swallowed every stick. The rights pa.s.sed through various hands, and in '86 were held by an enterprising Swedish company, which brought modern appliances, dived, dredged, and dug, fished up a lot of timber and bric-a-brac, and then broke. Since then, two Hamburg firms have tackled the job and lost their capital. Scores of lives have been spent over it, all told, and probably a million of money.

Still there are the bars, somewhere.'

'And what's being done now?'

'Well, recently a small local company was formed. It has a depot at Memmert, and is working with a good deal of perseverance. An engineer from Bremen was the princ.i.p.al mover, and a few men from Norderney and Emden subscribed the capital. By the way, our friend Dollmann is largely interested in it.'

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Davies's tell-tale face growing troubled with inward questionings.

'We mustn't get back to him,' I said, laughing. 'It's not fair to my friend. But all this is very interesting. Will they ever get those bars?'

'Ah! that's the point,' said von Bruning, with a mysterious twinkle.

'It's an undertaking of immense difficulty; for the wreck is wholly disintegrated, and the gold, being the heaviest part of it, has, of course, sunk the deepest. Dredging is useless after a certain point; and the divers have to make excavations in the sand, and sh.o.r.e them up as best they can. Every gale nullifies half their labour, and weather like this of the last fortnight plays the mischief with the work. Only this morning I met the overseer, who happens to be ash.o.r.e here. He was as black as thunder over prospects.'

'Well, it's a romantic speculation,' I said. 'They deserve a return for their money.'

'I hope they'll get it,' said the commander. 'The fact is, I hold a few shares myself.'

'Oh, I hope I haven't been asking indiscreet questions?'

'Oh, dear no; all the world knows what I've told you. But you'll understand that one has to be reticent as to results in such a case.

It's a big stake, and the _t.i.tle is none too sound._ There has been litigation over it. Not that I worry much about my investment; for I shan't lose much by it at the worst. But it gives one an interest in this abominable coast. I go and see how they're getting on sometimes, when I'm down that way.'

'It _is_ an abominable coast,' I agreed, heartily, 'though you won't get Davies to agree.'

'It's a magnificent place for sailing,' said Davies, looking wistfully out over the storm-speckled grey of the North Sea. He underwent some more chaff, and the talk pa.s.sed to our cruising adventures in the Baltic and the estuaries. Von Bruning cross-examined us with the most charming urbanity and skill. Nothing he asked could cause us the slightest offence; and a responsive frankness was our only possible course. So, date after date, and incident after incident, were elicited in the most natural way. As we talked I was astonished to find how little there was that was worth concealing, and heartily thankful that we had decided on candour. My fluency gave me the lead, and Davies followed me; but his own personality was really our tower of strength. I realized that as I watched the play of his eager features, and heard him struggle for expression on his favourite hobby; all his pet phrases translated crudely into the most excruciating German. He was convincing, because he was himself.

'Are there many like you in England?' asked von Bruning once.

'Like me? Of course--lots,' said Davies.

'I wish there were more in Germany; they play at yachting over here--on sh.o.r.e half the time, drinking and loafing; paid crews, clean hands, white trousers; laid up in the middle of September.'

'We haven't seen many yachts about, said Davies, politely.

For my part, I made no pretence of being a Davies. Faithful to my lower nature, I vowed the Germans were right, and, not without a secret zest, drew a lurid picture of the horrors of crewless cruising, and the drudgery that my remorseless skipper inflicted on me. It was delightful to see Davies wincing when I described my first night at Flensburg, for I had my revenge at last, and did not spare him. He bore up gallantly under my jesting, but I knew very well by his manner that he had not forgiven me my banter about the 'charming daughter'.

'You speak German well,' said von Bruning.

'I have lived in Germany,' said I.

'Studying for a profession, I suppose?'

'Yes,' said I, thinking ahead. 'Civil Service,' was my prepared answer to the next question, but again (morbidly, perhaps) I saw a pitfall. That letter from my chief awaiting me at Norderney? My name was known, and we were watched. It might be opened. Lord, how casual we have been!

'May I ask what?'

'The Foreign Office.' It sounded suspicious, but there it was.

'Indeed--in the Government service? When do you have to be back?'

That was how the question of our future intentions was raised, prematurely by me; for two conflicting theories were clashing in my brain. But the contents of the letter dogged me now, and 'when at a loss, tell the truth', was an axiom I was finding sound. So I answered, 'Pretty soon, in about a week. But I'm expecting a letter at Norderney, which may give me an extension. Davies said it was a good address to give,' I added, smiling.

'Naturally,' said von Bruning, dryly; the joke had apparently ceased to amuse him. 'But you haven't much time then, have you?' he added, 'unless you leave your skipper in the lurch. It's a long way to England, and the season is late for yachts.'

I felt myself being hurried.

'Oh, you don't understand,' I explained; '_he's_ in no hurry. He's a man of leisure; aren't you, Davies?'

'What?' said Davies.

I translated my cruel question.

'Yes,' said Davies, with simple pathos.

'If I have to leave him I shan't be missed--as an able seaman, at least. He'll just potter on down the islands, running aground and kedging-off, and arrive about Christmas.'

'Or take the first fair gale to Dover,' laughed the commander.

'Or that. So, you see, we're in no hurry: and we never make plans.

And as for a pa.s.sage to England straight, I'm not such a coward as I was at first, but I draw the line at that.'

'You're a curious pair of shipmates; what's your point of view, Herr Davies?'